Women of the Wharf
A Jack Sparrow Adventure
By Roland Trask
Author's Note: My Mom is a big fan of Jack Sparrow. I wrote this story for her as a birthday present a few years ago. I hope you enjoy it.
As the two-masted schooner entered the harbor from the blazing orange sea in the twilight, Jack Sparrow wondered how many scoundrels and cut-throats he'd have to hire in order to commandeer it. The thought was very fleeting, as he realized he needn't bother. He could do much better than a pathetic schooner. After all, he was Captain Jack Sparrow.
Besides, why bother even hiring men to steal it. He'd accomplished much greater feats on his own. Still, he was feeling lazy. All he wanted was a mug of grog and a sprightly wench. He knew where to find one.
He walked along the dingy wharf to a small, rundown shanty that looked as though a stiff wind could have knocked it over. A sign hung by the door read in faded lettering The Kraken's Belly. Drunken figures staggered by in the dim yellowed windows, and Jack Sparrow smiled. Straightening his three-cornered hat, and using his earwax to curl the ends of his mustache, he stepped into the tavern.
The patrons were far from elegant, so Jack needn't spare a single thought towards his own questionable appearance, not that he would anyway. Behind the bar, a grizzled old shellback with one eye spat in a mug and polished it with a snotty rag. A hairy, muscular brute sat at a large table with many wenches, laughing jovially at his own joke, which didn't seem to be amusing anyone else. Several more girls sat at the bar, and at the very back, a hooded old man with a tattered blindfold sat nursing a glass of rum.
Checking to make sure his breath was not entirely foul, Jack approached the nearest woman. Coming up behind her, he cleared his throat and uttered in what he apparently thought was a flirtatious voice
"Prepare to be boarded!"
The wench spun around suddenly, revealing a horse-face and a large hairy mole Jack recognized all to well.
"Jack!?" she exclaimed angrily.
Jack drew back from both fear and disgust, but quickly put on an awkward smile as if their relationship were on more joyful terms.
"Genevieve!" he tried and failed to say cheerily. Seeing her ugly scowl towards him, Jack opened his arms and tried to embrace her as he would his great aunt. She drew back, opened her hand, and smacked him across the face.
Knowing that he deserved it in the back of his mind, Jack rubbed his throbbing cheek as Genevieve stormed out of the bar. The bartender watched her leave and turned back to his snotty mug with an expression of the greatest impartiality, but Jack could have sworn he heard the old blind man in the back snicker. The other women at the bar noticed Genevieve's little outburst, and now stared at Jack with raised eyebrows. Jack ignored them, and turned to the barkeep.
"Yo mate, mug of grog it ya don't mind."
Jack was glad to see the bartender produce a cleaner glass and not the nasty one he'd been scrubbing for a good while.
"Ya want some roast duck?" asked the bartender in a gravely voice, pointing to what looked like a scorched pigeon on a clay platter.
"No thanks mate, had black ash for lunch." replied Jack as he took up his grog. He wasn't hungry for anything in this place. Earlier he had filled up on a quantity of ham and a generous portion of his own gargantuan ego.
Seeing that Genevieve had pretty much frightened away the women at the bar, his only other option for female companionship were the wenches surrounding the burly man at the table. He looked pretty nasty with his yellow teeth, unshaven face, and mud stained clothing, not that Jack was garbed any better.
Well, thought Jack, I'm better looking than him at least.
Jack strutted over to where they were sitting and pulled a chair up next to a seated wench. Sitting down and giving a seemingly, but rather unflirtatious grin, his eyes moved down her body, stopping at about chest level.
"What are you staring at!?" the woman demanded defensively.
Jack gave her a big, toothy smile.
"I bet you could get sixteen men on that chest."
She was so offended, she didn't bother responding, but simply bolted up out of her chair and brought her hand across Jack's face. Marching furiously out of the tavern, the wench didn't even look back as Jack rubbed his now prominently red cheek.
"Things aren't very friendly in the Kraken's Belly." Jack muttered.
Jack could have sworn he heard another snicker, louder this time, from the old blind man in the back of the tavern.
"What are you doing!?" shouted the burly brute suddenly, staggering to his feet in a drunken rage.
"Relax, mate." said Jack with a big grin. "No need to be selfish, there's plenty of loveys for everyone. In fact, from your appearance, I'm probably a bit more deserving."
The brute let out a howl of anger and drew a rusty knife.
"I'll send ye to Davy Jones!"
He lurched towards Jack, his knife raised high, ready to plunge it into Jack's heart. The grin never leaving his face, Jack simply raised his leg, placed it behind an empty chair, and booted it towards the charging drunk. The brute's legs wrapped around the chair, launching him forward, face first, into a wooden table. As he lay there unconscious upon a pile of splinters Jack stood up triumphantly, one hand on his hip, the other raising his mug as if to toast the entire bar.
The other patrons didn't seem impressed with his victory. The one-eyed bartender looked surly due to the mess Jack had made, and the wenches looked irritated, for Jack had taken out the man with the coin. The blind man in the back continued to chuckle.
As the barkeeper began collecting pieces of shattered wood, every last woman in the bar took her leave. Jack furrowed his brow, and turned to approach the old blind man.
"I say mate, what's got you all giggly?"
"You," said the old man.
"Pray tell what I've done you find so comical?"
"I'd say it's your methods," said the old man with a smile. "The way you approach women."
Jack looked confused.
"Care to elaborate?"
"If you ever hope to find love, you must cease with your immature remarks. Be charming, charismatic, but be yourself.
"I'm not looking for love! I'm just looking for…"
"I know what you're looking for, lad! But women are people, not objects. Treat them as equals. In fact, put them first. Show a bit of chivalry. Don't be childish and rude, be a man.
Jack blinked.
"Oh… sorry mate, I wasn't listening. I just saw a ripe one pass by outside."
Jack turned and raced out of the Kraken's Belly, to try his luck one more time. The old man shook his head and sipped his rum, but smiled when another loud smack met his ears.